


Through the Storm

by TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold in the Dark Castle, Dark Castle, F/M, First Time, Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7057762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle is afraid of thunderstorms, especially now that the thunder reminds her of an ogre's heavy footfalls. She doesn't want to be alone. Rumplestiltskin finds her unexpectedly at his door, shivering and in a state. He just can't bring himself to turn her way....</p><p>From an anon prompt on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Storm

There was a deep rumbling in the distance, the rain just beginning to pour. Belle frowned at her window, too tense to mind the open book in her lap. She knew it was silly and childish to harbor such a fear of storms, especially at her age. A streak of light flashed from much nearer than the last and she pulled her shawl tighter, bracing herself for the next roll of thunder. The inevitable crack still made her flinch, curling up into herself. The forgotten book dropped to the floor. Fat raindrops pattered hard against the glass as another bolt of lightening hit.

Belle had always hated thunderstorms. Lightening was as beautiful as it was terrible but the thunder… The thunder was anger incarnate. Thunder made the world sound like it was splitting open. As a child, she had run to her mother, taking shelter in warm arms and soft blankets. The fear had abated as she grew, became more manageable with a good book to distract her. Now, however, the reverberating crashes reminded her too much of the thudding steps of the ogres.

At the next clap, Belle covered her head with the shawl, trying not to sob. Oh, but she was being ridiculous! A woman who had walked knowingly into the arms of the Dark One, cowering from the weather? Rumplestiltskin would laugh his head off at her folly, if he knew. He probably did know, come to think of it. In their time together, Belle had noticed his rather uncanny ability to predict her moods.

The only time she had ever caught a chill, so far, she'd found a bowl of piping hot broth outside her door and a note excusing her from her duties until she was “well enough not to sneeze on all my artifacts.” Another day, one of the books in the vast library he'd presented her had made her so homesick that she could not stop a few tears from falling. Rumplestiltskin had invited her to dinner that night and enchanted several objects to put on a show for them.

Given the opportunity, he would admit to no fondness for her, of course, gruffly dismissing her teasing assertion as ludicrous. Yet, he continued to show her such veiled kindnesses. The dresses on her back were a fine cotton, soft against her skin. The shoes fit her perfectly, never pinching as her royal attire often did. Belle huddled under her warm, homespun shawl (another gift from the so-called Beast) and wondered if Rumplestiltskin could sense that she was afraid. What would he do, if he could?

Even an all powerful being such as himself ought not meddle in the weather. He'd told her that once, when she'd longed for a picnic during the long winter snow. Mother Nature was a cruel and unjust opponent, he warned, his face stern. Later that day, he'd insisted on on taking their tea in the solarium, where the sun shone brightly enough through the glass to keep the room quite temperate. Belle hadn't even known the Dark Castle had a solarium. Funny enough, she hadn't been able to find it since then.

She mused on this as the rain whipped and wind howled, the thunder roared and her stomach roiled. What would Rumplestiltskin do if she ran to him as she once had to her mother? Would he think her a child? There was a time she would have been certain that he would only turn her away with a sneer. With time and better acquaintance, she was not so sure. His heart was much kinder than his mask of cruelty would lead a person to believe. Would he take pity on her and let her come in?

She licked her lips, almost unconsciously, as she pictured herself climbing into Rumplestiltskin’s bed. She had not seen him in his nightclothes but she had washed them enough to know they were a worn cotton. She had expected silk, like his tunic shirts, but no. For all his finery, Rumplestiltskin slept in the trappings of a peasant. It was a rather endearing detail, she realized. And one that made her cheeks flush if she thought about it for too long, wondering how the fabric might feel against his slightly rougher skin.

She’d touched him enough to know the texture of his skin was not the same as hers. Just his hands and, once, his face. His skin was pebbled and warm, not the cold scales she’d expected. She had found herself fancying more than once as to whether his entire body felt like that. And how it might feel pressed against her own.

Belle huffed, rubbing a hand across her brow. It was too warm under this shawl and doing little else to soothe her. Her thoughts of Rumplestiltskin had her pressing her thighs together, igniting a spark that was completely at odds with her current mood. With every crash that echoed across the sky, her muscles tensed further. She was strung tighter than a bow, ready to snap at nearly any moment. It would not do.

Gathering up what was left of her tattered courage, Belle slid from the chaise lounge and flung herself into the hallway. She padded down the dark corridors, the stone floors cold against her feet. She ought to have remembered slippers, but if she’d stopped herself for even a moment, she may have lost momentum. It was an untenable thing she was doing, bothering the Dark One in the night. Coming willingly to his bed in search of succor and… whatever else she might find there.

 ***

Rumplestiltskin was standing by the window, staring blindly at the storm. He was dressed for bed out of habit. For hundreds of years, he’d been keeping the same hours, the hours of a shepherd or a farmer. To bed with the sun and up with the same, unless there was a deal to be made, of course. Dark Ones had no real need for sleep but he considered it a luxury. When he slept, the voices of the other Dark Ones went quiet. They could not invade his dreams. In dreams he could be the man he once sought to be, before curses and portals and deals ripped away his happiness. In dreams, his son still stood proudly by his side. In dreams, Belle had chosen to come to him, at the Dark Castle. She was not his servant or another addition to his collection of lovely _things_. She was a woman who wanted him, not for power but for who he was, both man and monster. 

Her smiles and her kindness haunted him daily, tastes of what he could not have - should not even wish for. In the dark of night, his head upon a pillow, he allowed himself to indulge. He dreamt of her, the lushness of her slender curves within his hands, the sweetness of her mouth. He awoke gasping and unfulfilled, taunted by the voices in his head.

A knock came at his door. At first, he thought he had imagined it, but it happened again. He reached out with just the barest tendril of his magic, though he knew perfectly well who had to be on the other side.

_Fear._

He recoiled. It was overwhelming, how afraid she was, though there was an undercurrent of something else he could not quite place. Unthinking, he ran to the door and flung it wide.

“What on earth are you doing here?” He tried to affect a sneer but it died quickly at the sight of her, barefoot and shivering.

Belle looked up, her eyes liquid and round in a face paler than usual, “I can’t sleep. The storm.” She trembled and wrapped her arms around herself.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed, grateful that she’d inadvertently covered the the points of her nipples that had been visible through the fabric. She was still standing against the light, her figure gently silhouetted through the nightdress. He dug his claws into his palms and willed himself not to look. “I have told you,” he said, pointedly, “I cannot control the weather. Well,” he waved a hand, “perhaps I could, but it is never worth the price. Why didn’t you stay warm in your bed?” He absentmindedly summoned a blanket to wrap itself around her.

Belle shook her head adamantly, clutching the blanket close. “I couldn’t. I… oh, please don’t laugh at me, but I can’t be alone when it’s like this.” Her cheeks burned, despite the chill.

“Like what?” the words had no sooner left his mouth then a peal of thunder nearly made the walls shake.

Belle bit back a whimper, shoulders hunching, her head dipping low. After a moment, she turned that pleading look back to him. “Please, can I come in and sit with you? Just for a little while? I don’t take up a lot of space.” She managed a tremulous half-smile.

He ought to magic her straight back to her room. He knew that. Pretty girls should not be in bedrooms with lonely beasts, no matter how inclement the weather. Yet, as she studied him hopefully, her lower lip giving just the slightest wobble, he knew he would not turn her away.

“Fine,” he spat brusquely, stepping aside to let her pass.  

Belle made a happy sound, throwing her arms around him with such force that he stumbled back against the door. “Thank you,” she breathed into his ear.

And, oh, this was not his proudest moment. He delicately removed her from his person, turning quickly before she could see the effect her hugs had on his anatomy. “It’s nothing,” he returned, taking a deep, steadying breath.

He expected her to settle in on the sofa but she skittered right past that and planted herself directly onto the bed. Rumplestiltskin blinked incredulously as the little chit made herself quite at home, pulling the blanket over her lap with a sigh that did nothing to alleviate his sudden and acute longing to join her.

Belle looked up from where she sat in a nest of blankets on Rumplestiltskin's bed. He was staring at her with the oddest expression, his jaw slack and mouth hanging slightly open. She bit her lower lip. “Am I on the wrong side? Which do you usually prefer?”

Rumplestiltskin nearly choked on his own tongue. “It's my bed, dearie. I don't usually have to choose. 

Belle’s eyes cast downward. “Oh, right.” She surveyed the bed around her and looked up with a shrug. “Well, I prefer the left, if that's alright with you.” She looked at him expectantly, the hint of a smile playing over her lips.

Rumplestiltskin pressed his lips together to hold back a chuckle. His Belle was nothing if not cheeky.

Well, not his. Never his. In the back of his mind, Nimue gave a snort and called him a rude name. The others agreed. A spark of irritation at their intrusion sobered him quickly and he tossed his head. “Yes, fine. That's, uh, fine.” He pushed them away. Not now. If it took all the force of his considerable will, the voices would not intrude on this moment.

Belle’s smile grew, even beginning to show a glint of teeth, when there was another roll of thunder that chased it from her face. She shuddered violently, her voice thready and high as she spoke. “Rumple? Please?”

He was at the bed almost before the words had left her mouth. Bunching the sheets between them, he sat at arms length from the frightened girl and gingerly extended his hand, running it over her blanketed back.

Belle could feel the comforting weight making smooth, broad strokes down her back. She leaned into it. It had been so long since she'd been touched with any sort of affection. Rumplestiltskin tolerated her hugs but he had never initiated contact before. Greedy for more, she inched closer and rested her head on his shoulder. He stiffened momentarily before resuming his rhythmic stroking of her back. Belle wrapped an arm loosely around his waist, tucking both legs behind her.

They sat like that and listened to the rain. Rumplestiltskin's hand grew bolder, fingers sliding under her hair and skimming the back of her neck, venturing down to the small of her back before repeating the motion. She felt so good, pressed into his side, all delicate softness and the sweet-smelling oil she used for her bath. So trusting under the monster’s hands. He itched to pull her onto his lap, where a blanket just barely concealed his lingering reaction to her. He prayed that the darkness and her innocence could at least spare his dignity 

Belle wanted to purr like a milk-drunk kitten. His palm was so warm against her shoulder blades, his slim torso sturdy against hers. She knew each finger ended in a claw but she could not feel them, he was being that careful. Humming her contentment, she turned her face up, toward his neck. He smelled of wood fire and spices, not at all what one would expect from the feared Dark One. She breathed him in, nosing at the textured skin of his neck.

Rumplestiltskin inhaled sharply, his hand stuttering in its path. “Belle?”

“Mm?”

“The... storm seems to be passing.” he managed, her breath on his neck driving him to distraction 

“Mm,” was all she said in return, the arm around him tightening as she pulled herself still closer.

Rumplestiltskin felt his self control begin to fray, a snicker of laughter inside his head, snuffling and murmuring. He shut them all out, this time using a touch of magic. He’d pay for it later. Now, he needed to keep his wits about him, with Belle’s arm dangerously near his groin, her breasts pressing into his side. Somehow his hand had found its way to her hip. This was dangerous territory. Surely she knew that. Had her mother taught her nothing?

Belle’s mind was racing. She was body to body with Rumplestiltskin, both in nightclothes, in his bed. His caresses had moved to her hip, tracing the curve of her waist in a way that sent frissons of pleasure straight to her core. There was a familiar throb at the apex of her legs. She’d felt it often, on nights when Rumplestiltskin was so intent on his spinning that he didn’t seem to notice her watching him. His hands moved with such elegance and skill, his skin glinting in the candlelight. She pictured them on her body, coaxing and plucking at those secret places only she had ever touched before.  And it filled her with such longing, such heat, that she would excuse herself to bed, her hands working busily beneath the covers to relieve that sweet ache. 

She had read enough to know the mechanics of what she wanted and she had lived in the Dark Castle long enough to know from whom she wanted it. The question remained if he would be so willing to oblige her. She assumed him to be properly equipped from frequent perusals of his form. He had been a man once, after all.

Do the brave thing, she told herself. Shifting just enough, she brushed her lips to his neck, testing for his reaction. 

Rumplestiltskin felt the first flutter of her lips just beside his galloping pulse and he assumed it must have been a mistake. The second time, however, she lingered, the tip of her tongue darting out to taste him. He released a strangled cry that might have been her name, scrambling backward until he hit the headboard. Belle fell forward, catching herself on one hand, pride stinging from the sign of rejection.

Rumplestiltskin gaped at Belle, wild-eyed, heart pounding staccato against his breastbone. “Why?” He tried to recover his breathing. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I… I  wanted to,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to… upset you. I just…” Her voice trailed off, eyes suddenly going wide.

Rumplestiltskin followed the line of her gaze. Directly to where the blankets had fallen away from his lap and he was quite discernibly erect, even in the scant starlight. He squeezed his eyes shut as someone in his head made a comment about his impeccable timing. He wished the other Dark Ones were corporeal so he could blast them out of existence. He opened his mouth to find some way to salvage this mortifying situation when Belle licked her lips, slowly and deliberately and said:

“Is… that because of me?” She crawled closer, the lacey neckline of her nightgown falling temptingly open. “Because I kissed you?”

“Was a bit more than a kiss,” he murmured, unable to quite believe that this was happening. He’d dreamt so many times of Belle in his bed, looking at him exactly that way. He must have fallen asleep. Surely Belle had gone back to her room, still pure as the driven snow, and some succubus had taken her place. He surreptitiously pinched himself. Not asleep. Someone in his head cackled and that should have been proof enough. He silenced the voices with a vicious threat to do only good deeds for a month and turned his full attention to the vision beside him.

She smiled, a mix of shyness and coquetry he found unspeakably appealing. “I’d like to kiss you again. May I?”

He hesitated only a moment more before nodding, letting her take the lead and ease her lips over his. She was inexperienced but eager, pressing her mouth ardently to his, capturing his lower lip between both of her own and suckling. Something rippled across his skin, like a warm breeze. It sparked an unnameable feeling, like a long lost memory, but then it faded, gone as quickly as it had begun.  He swallowed a groan as her hands buried in his hair, her tongue swiping at the seam of his lips. He parted them for her, his fingers digging into the mattress to keep himself from taking over and laying her on her back. She explored his mouth with teasing strokes of her tongue, inviting him to do the same.

Kissing him was exquisite but it only fueled the flames. She was slick and needy, her pulse centering low in her belly and radiating down both legs. She needed more and closer and _now_. No longer afraid of rejection, she clambered onto his lap, straddling his thighs. He broke the kiss to swear aloud, his hands coming to her waist and gripping tight.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“This isn’t… Belle… you can’t possibly want…” His throat worked, lips pressing together, eyes searching hers.

Belle shook her head. “I decide my fate, remember? And yes, I do.” She snaked a hand between them, wrapping it around his cock. “I want you, Rumplestiltskin. Have done for quite some time now.” She gave a tentative stroke and his head fell back against the headboard with a thunk, his eyes half lidded and so dark they were nearly black, glittering like jewels. “Do you want me, Rumple?”

“How could I not?” His voice was lower than she’d ever heard it, none of his usual pageantry.

Belle’s cheeks tinged pink at his simple admission, a charming juxtaposition to the dominant position she’d taken astride him. Rumplestiltskin felt a surge of something far more potent than mere animal lust but he pushed that aside just as he had the voices. His hands found the hem of her nightdress and slowly lifted, giving her plenty of time to change her mind. Instead, she raised both arms to help him disrobe her.

He released a short huff of air. Every inch of her was perfect. From her slim pale thighs to those rosy tipped nipples he’d tried so hard to ignore, before. He wanted to put his  hands and mouth everywhere at once, to learn the unique flavor of all the most sensitive places on her body. With some prompting, he removed Belle from above him and spread her out onto the bed. It had been a long time since any woman had allowed him this and he intended to savor every moment.

Ignoring the insistent throb of his cock, he lay beside his Belle and cupped one breast as he kissed her gently. She made a soft sound and arched into his touch. Trailing his lips down her throat, he teased each nipple in turn between his thumb and forefingers. In a mirror of the kiss that had set them on this path, he flicked his tongue against her pulse point.

Belle gasped and breathed his name, the abbreviated version that she’d only ever used in private until now. His mouth was hot and wet as he licked and nibbled his way from earlobe to earlobe, across her collarbones and down her chest. She cried out as he suckled at one breast and then the other, his hands exploring lower. He stroked the smooth skin of her belly, her muscles tensing and bunching under his gentle touch. Downward he went, hands followed by mouth, his tongue drawing patterns across her skin that made her squirm and mewl. When he began to toy with the thatch of hair at her pubis, fingertips just barely grazing the place that most craved his touch, Belle whimpered.

He cupped her mound, pressing the heel of his palm against that little hooded nub he knew would bring her pleasure. Belle bucked hips as he rubbed in little circles, her wetness coating his hand. He slid one finger inside her, so tight and hot and wet it nearly sent him over the edge right there. But Belle would get there first. For some reason he might never understand, she had chosen to come to his bed and he was determined not to disappoint her. He teased her up and up that precipice, until she was crying out inarticulately, her legs shaking. He pet her gently as she came down, sipping kisses from her lips.

“Rumple, please… “ Belle plucked at his nightclothes, needing them gone. That first taste had only made her hungrier for him. “Let me touch you, too?”

He gave a little chuckle and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I can deny you nothing,” he whispered against them, meaning every word.

His own clothes were discarded quickly and Belle lay him back, proceeding to lavish the same attention on him that he had shown to her. She mapped his skin with her mouth, enjoying the texture and the tense of his muscles below it. She swirled her tongue around each nipple, delighted at how they tightened just like hers.

 As Belle’s hands moved back to his cock, Rumplestiltskin could take no more. With a growl, he flipped her back onto the mattress, covering her body with his own. She squeaked and giggled, wrapping both arms around his neck, her legs parting instantly to allow him in between. He took her mouth once more, harder and more insistent than before. She nipped at his lips playfully as he pulled away.

“Are you sure, Belle?” He asked, praying to any deity that would listen that the answer was still yes.

“Yes,” she nearly hissed the word, canting her hips against his. “Oh, yes.”

The blunt head of his cock prodded at her entrance, already beginning to slip inside. He took himself in hand to guide it in slowly, inch by inch. Belle clutched at his hair, his neck, his back, her breathing loud and harsh in his ear. He kissed her softly. Once he was fully inside her, he stilled, panting with the effort, giving time for her to adjust to the intrusion. “Are you -”

“If you ask if I’m sure again, I may have to smack you,” she interrupted.

“- alright?” Rumplestiltskin finished, biting back a laugh.

“Oh. Yes.” Belle wondered that it was possible to still be blushing with him now inside her. She had anticipated pain, but this was mild compared what the serving girls she knew back home had told her to expect. In a few moments, it had mostly dissipated and she was left with a wonderful feeling of fullness. “You, um, you can move. If you want to.”

 He had never wanted anything more in his life, so far as he could tell in that moment. He made a few shallow thrusts, never pulling out more than an inch or so, until Belle began to move against him, making needy little sounds. He picked up his pace, sliding deeper within her, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs. She was unbelievably wet, her body welcoming him, flesh against flesh making obscene slapping noises. Belle moaned and he drank down the sound. He wanted to drown in her.

The delicious friction was driving her back up that peak once more and she clung to him, her nails running down his back, glancing off the smooth scales. Higher and higher she spiraled up, until she broke, waves of pleasure crashing over her. Above her, Rumplestiltskin tensed and groaned, warmth flooding from their joining.

He rolled to the side and pulled her to his chest, wrapping both arms around her. He stroked her hair and held her close, baffled that such a moment could even be his. Belle listened as his heartbeat went back to normal. She was sore and sticky, but felt no desire to move. This was exactly where she wanted to be.


End file.
